


Where You Put The Horizon

by bessemerprocess



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Aftermath of a Case Gone Bad, Alcohol, Caretaking, Episode Tag, Multi, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-18
Updated: 2009-10-18
Packaged: 2017-10-02 16:30:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bessemerprocess/pseuds/bessemerprocess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aaron Hotchner is weary to the bone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where You Put The Horizon

**Author's Note:**

> Tag for 5x04 (minor spoilers). Thanks to bluerosefairy and amadi for awesome and speedy betas.

Aaron Hotchner is weary to the bone: too tired to do anything but stare at the far wall of his office.

He hadn't even tried to stop any of them. Not the cops, hell bent on revenge, not the unsubs, just as determined to play out their deadly fantasy. He'd walked away. He'd known, of course, that there was no way to stop the unfolding drama, but that wouldn't have stopped him before. This time, he hadn't even tried. Aaron Hotchner had simply walked away.

So he's here now, sitting in the dim light of his desk lamp, rethinking every step in his mind, trying to determine when the unsubs' deaths had turned from chance to fate. He thinks it might have happened before he ever heard of the case. It doesn't help.

He can't decide if he's surprised when Prentiss and Rossi interrupt his thoughts with glasses and the pure, clean pour of alcohol. This is usually his job, picking up the pieces after a case gone wrong, but Prentiss is good at stepping into his shoes. She's learned all the lessons he and Gideon had to teach, both good and bad. Sometimes, she puts those lessons to better use than either of them ever had.

Rossi believes alcohol is equal measures healer and destroyer, and Hotch wonders which of them decided on the need for alcohol versus the type of alcohol needed. He's willing to bet it was Rossi who decided on the whiskey.

The three of them drink the first two rounds in silence. It's comforting that no one needs to ask how he is doing or if he is okay or whether they can do anything to help. His team doesn't need words for those things. Two glasses in and Hotch is beginning to remember why he liked drinking once.

"Come on," Rossi says, breaking the silence. "I have better stuff at home. And lasagna."

Prentiss stands, and they both wait for him to join them. He considers sending them home without him for a moment, considers sleeping on his office couch again, but decides against it. It's cold here, he's tired and they are offering. When he stands, Rossi pats him on the back and Prentiss lays a quick hand on his forearm. Hotch considers for a moment their motives and just as quickly decides not to care. Lasagna is lasagna, and four guns are safer than just two in his own hands.

They take Rossi's car. It's black and big, more suited to the Sierra Madres than the smooth, flat streets of Virginia. Hotch stares out the window, letting Prentiss and Rossi carry the conversation as the twinkling lights of the DC night scene pass by.

Once they've arrived, Hotch is hustled into the house and finds himself on Rossi's couch as Prentiss hands him another glass and Rossi bangs around the kitchen. Another glass, and they settle in on either side of him. Between the glow of alcohol in his veins and the body warmth radiating from them, he's actually starting to relax. Just a bit, but the double locks and security system help too.

He knows Rossi is security conscious, but he tries not to wonder if the extra lock is because of him.

"Stop thinking, Aaron," Prentiss says, and Hotch's train of thought quickly derails, trying to figure out if Prentiss had ever used his given name before.

Before he can ask, Rossi's warm hand is on the back on his neck. "It's safe here, Aaron. Relax."

He's not sure why, but Rossi's words work and he leans further back into the softness of the couch and the warmth of his friends. They stay like that for a moment, Hotch soaking up their presence around him, like this is home, comfort, like family.

Prentiss brings up a hand and places it lightly on his chest. It's the second time she's touched him tonight and his inner profiler kicks in--doesn't touch without purpose; cold, alienating parents--before he cuts off the thoughts and focuses on the feeling. She must be able to feel his heart speed under her touch. The steady thump that proclaims Aaron Hotchner is still alive.

His mind is still whirling, still trying to process and categorize Prentiss, when Dave leans in to kiss him. He's surprised it's Dave who kisses him first, a questioning kiss, giving him a chance to acclimate, to respond, to run.

A million things run through his mind, but he pushes them all away and kisses Dave back. He needs something good, something selfish in this moment and so Hotch turns his brain off. Not enough to miss Emily's deft fingers unbuttoning his shirt while he's distracted. Not enough to wonder if they had planned this, had thought about and discussed this moment, or if they were running on improvisation and the power of the profile. He thinks it's the latter. When Dave reaches out to brush a thumb across Emily's cheek, she sighs like she's been waiting for this for a long time.

They pull him up off the couch, and lead him back into Rossi's bedroom. Hotch checks for exit routes even though he's not planning on leaving anytime soon. No, he thinks as Emily pulls him down into the bed, he's not planning on leaving at all.

They get him undressed without saying a word, just kisses trailed down his chest and hands holding him tight. Rossi is diligent and intense, where Prentiss is gentle, methodical, and when they are all finished, they lie there in a tangle of limbs. Lying between them, surround by their warmth and concern and love, Hotch feels a little less alone.


End file.
